Thrill
by blueandblack
Summary: Jacob, Bella, a bottle of whiskey. Set during New Moon.


A clearing in the woods, a little sun trickling down, Bella, Jacob, a bottle of whiskey.

He hated how perfect it felt. She loved how she didn't feel much of anything besides the dim fuzzy thrill of being a _juvenile delinquent. _

"You know, grass and trees notwithstanding, I'm pretty sure this qualifies as street drinking. Also there's the whole thing with neither of us being twenty one yet."

Bella snorted, took a swig of whiskey, coughed loudly and handed the bottle to Jacob with a passionate "Who cares?!"

Jacob chuckled at her cross expression. "Uh, let's see… There's this guy with a shiny badge and a gun, Sheriff to some, 'Dad' to others."

Bella turned to look at him, her brow furrowing further. Then she suddenly burst out in giggles, ended up on her hands and knees trying to contain them. She'd been like this for the past half hour – her mood doing a complete one eighty without warning or reason.

Finally she calmed down enough to tilt her head back, nose in the air, say coolly "He's Charlie to me."

Jacob raised his eyebrows. "You call your dad by his first name?"

She lay back on the grass with a sigh, stretched her arms out over her head.

"Well, no. Not to his face anyway. But it's a good name. Way better than 'Dad'. Who wants to be called 'Dad'?" She rolled her eyes at the sky. "So short and silly. But Charlie… Chaaaaaaaarrrrrlieeeeeeee."

She sounded it out in a slow wavering melody. Jacob laughed.

"You're funny when you're drunk," he said as he laid down beside her, something like approval in his voice.

She frowned, turned her head to look at him. "Only when I'm drunk?!"

He turned his face around and caught her eye, swallowed at the sudden breath-to-breath closeness, then smiled fondly. "Well you're kind of a solemn girl, Bells."

Her forehead creased with worry, and it would have been cute if it hadn't looked so much like _pain_ that it scared him. He heard her heartbeat speed up, _felt_ it through the ground, watched glossy tears collect in her eyes when she whispered "I'm sorry."

He tried to shake his head, but it was difficult with his cheek pinned to the earth, reached out a hand and stroked her face instead. "You don't need to be sorry about anything, honey."

Wetness spilled onto his thumb and forefinger.

"But I do Jake. I do, I really do. Because I don't want to be solemn, I don't. I want to be happy. I want to make you happy. _Please._" It all came out in a loud mess of whispers and Jacob didn't quite understand what was happening when she wriggled forward, pressed her mouth to his.

His grip slackened and the bottle fell, precious liquid spilling out in golden rivulets, a forgotten whiskey spring.

The alcohol was nothing, it dripped into the void with everything else, pulled Bella's fuzzy half-relief with it.

She knew in that moment that the alcohol wasn't the thrill.

_This_ was the thrill, and it wasn't dim, it was blinding, sharp, sharp and soft at the same time and she wanted more, she wanted to want more, she wanted him to insist on _more_.

Jacob's gut was liquid bubble-wrap popping with every touch of her lips, with the silky heaven of her tongue against his. He reached for her even though some much, much older boy in the back of his mind was telling him not to, tangled his hands in her hair – _luxury, beyond belief_ - pressed himself deeper against her, and when she drew back with a gasp, he slipped quickly to her cheek, tasting the salt there.

"Jake, please." She rasped, lips pressing into his jaw.

_Please please,_ he heard it over and over till he covered her mouth again – _thick, hot, strange slow-motion_ - and he wanted to cry himself because he didn't know what she was begging for, he didn't know what more he could do to help her, and the worst thing, the thought that took out first prize in the Guiltiest and Most Agonizing categories, was _This will all just be part of her pounding headache in a few hours. _

When he came up for air, he breathed out "Bells," and she answered like an electric shock. "I love you, _please_, I love you Jake."

Jacob tightened in and out of the volts, then sighed, rolled onto his back, eyes flitting to the sticky mess that pooled with the dew on the grass.

Then he turned to Bella again with a smile that hurt a bit, spoke gently "Only when you're drunk."


End file.
